Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Cracker Jungle

Last Saturday was library visit number 387. Every Saturday afternoon since
before she could read, my daughter and I have gone to the Hollywood
library. As she's now 13, it may have been 500 weeks since this
weekly ritual got started. We've missed weeks, usually because she
was busy, but not many. So call it, conservatively, 387 visits.

Some
aspects of the ritual remain unchanged. It's the day I make
breakfast for her – tea, bacon, toast, a lettuce leaf or two. I
pack a lunch. We check online to find out which library books are due
and which can be renewed. We often get mad as we're leaving the house
because we're trying to catch a bus and one of us remembers something
at the last second that causes an anxiety-provoking delay.

Some
things have changed a lot. My girl now reads anything and
everything. She tore through all of Harry Potter years ago. She
dresses stylishly, more like New York City than Portland. Recently
she' s been leaving before me and taking the bus on her own, and I
catch up to her at the library.

Today
I caught up to her before the 75 bus came and we boarded together. At
the next stop, a couple got on. The woman I hardly noticed, because
the guy was so riveting. He was not wearing a shirt. Warm day, right?
But he was not only naked from the waist up, he was fat, hairy and
wore a couple of large Band-aids on his back. Grimy baseball cap over
a curtain of greasy hair? Check. Three-day beard? Check. Blurry blue
tattoos? Yep. Missing teeth, torn jeans falling off his butt, and
working his way through a bag of Twizzlers? Indeed so.

Six
decades into my own sometimes unsightly life, seeing this character
was not a shock. The streets of Portland are littered with such
bedraggled unfortunates. No, the sight was touching. I really
thought: That could be me. In
fact, he's more like me than most of the world. That guy is white,
American, and can buy candy any time he wants to. And it appears that
there's a woman in his life. Our politics might be the same. For
all I know, we're related.

And
then my daughter said, “Dad,
you've got something on your face.”

“What?”

She
showed me. It took a couple of tries to brush off the bit of
chocolate bacon or whatever the hell it was, largely because of my
three-day beard.

About Me

ABOUT ME
Since you're dying to know:
I worked as a reader and then as story editor for ITC, a (defunct) TV movie company in Studio City, California.
I wrote a few film reviews that Urb magazine published when it was just getting off the ground.
I've completed a half-dozen film scripts; number seven is an eco-thriller with a spiritual theme that will send multitudes into transports of ecstasy.
I make a living as a business writer in the dynamic and unpredictable field of insurance.
I've been lucky enough to contribute to the pocket-size Free Fun Guides. If you live in the populous parts of Southern California, or in the Bay Area, Portland, Seattle or New York, you should get one and never leave home without it. Web site: www.freefunguides.com
I live in Portland, Oregon with my wife and daughter, where we long for an occasional sunbreak and I drink the world's best coffee, usually black.